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- Shui Wakashu
Yomosugara mite o akasamu aki no tsuki koyoi no sora ni kumo nakaranan
I will gaze at the autumn moon all night until dawn. May there be no clouds in tonight's sky.
Shui Wakashu - Taira no Kanemori
Obotsukana izuko naruran mushi no ne o tazuneba kusa no tsuyu ya midaren
I cannot tell where they are. If I go searching for the insects' voices, will the dew on the grass be scattered?
Shui Wakashu - Fujiwara no Tameyori
Izuko ni mo kusa no makura o suzumushi wa koko o tabi to mo omowazaranan
The bell cricket makes its pillow of grass wherever it may be, so I hope it will not think of this place as a stop on a journey.
Shui Wakashu - Ise
Aki kureba hata oru mushi no aru nae ni karanishiki ni mo miyuru nobe kana
When autumn comes, along with the insects that weave like a loom, the fields too look as if woven into Chinese brocade.
Shui Wakashu - Ki no Tsurayuki
Chigiriken hodo ya suginuru aki no no ni hito matsumushi no koe no taesenu
Has the promised time already passed? On the autumn fields the voices of the pine crickets, waiting for someone, never cease.
Shui Wakashu - Unknown Poet
Tsuyukekute waga koromode wa nurenu tomo orite o yukan akihagi no hana
Even if my sleeves are soaked through with the heavy dew, I will break off a spray of autumn bush clover to take with me.
Shui Wakashu - Oshikochi no Mitsune
Utsurowamu koto dani oshiki akihagi o orenu bakari mo okeru tsuyu kana
Even the fading of the autumn bush clover would be a sorrow, yet the dew lies on it so heavily that its branches seem about to break.
Shui Wakashu - Ise
Waga yado no kiku no shiratsuyu kyō goto ni ikuyo tsumorite fuchi to naruran
The white dew on the chrysanthemums at my house, gathering on this day year after year, through how many ages will it pile up until it becomes a deep pool?
Shui Wakashu - Kiyohara no Motosuke
Nagatsuki no kokonoka goto ni tsumu kiku no hana mo kai naku oinikeru kana
Every year on the ninth day of the Ninth Month I have picked chrysanthemums, yet all in vain, for I have grown old.
Shui Wakashu - Oshikochi no Mitsune
Chidori naku saho no kawagiri tachinurashi yama no konoha mo iro kawariyuku
River mists must have risen over the Saho, where plovers cry, for the leaves on the hills are turning color.
Shui Wakashu - Mibu no Tadamine
Kaze samumi waga karakoromo utsu toki zo hagi no shitaba mo iro masarikeru
Just when I beat my robe on the fulling block because the wind has turned cold, the lower leaves of the bush clover deepen in color.
Shui Wakashu - Ki no Tsurayuki
Kannabi no mimuro no yama o kyō mireba shitakusa kakete irozukinikeri
Looking today at sacred Mount Mimuro, I see that it has colored all the way down to the undergrowth.
Shui Wakashu - Sone no Yoshitada
Momiji senu tokiwa no yama wa fuku kaze no oto ni ya aki o kikiwataruran
Does Mount Tokiwa, whose leaves never turn, come to know of autumn by the sound of the blowing wind?
Shui Wakashu - Onakatomi no Yoshinobu
Momiji senu tokiwa no yama ni sumu shika wa onore nakite ya aki o shiruran
Does the deer that lives on Mount Tokiwa, whose leaves never turn, come to know autumn by its own crying?
Shui Wakashu - Onakatomi no Yoshinobu
Akikaze no uchifuku goto ni takasago no onoe no shika no nakanu hi zo naki
Every time the autumn wind blows, there is not a day when the deer on the peak at Takasago does not cry.
Shui Wakashu - Unknown Poet
Akikaze o somuku mono kara hanasusuki yuku kata o nado maneku naruran
Though the plumed pampas grass turns its back on the autumn wind, why does it seem to beckon toward the way the wind is going?
Shui Wakashu - Unknown Poet